Category Archives: 0315

00480315 (dream)

“Yeah, that’s him, Frank. I’d recognize those beady little eyes anywhere. And that smile!” Philip turns, realizes Frank is no longer with him. He calls anyway. “Frank? Franky boy — you here?” He stares around, then peers over at the conjunction of 2 streams below the railroad trestle bridge, lesser to greater. Copper to Silver some say, although he knows better about the former. This is Edward. Flowing into Silver directly below the train trestle marking the boundary between West and North; green and blue.

Frank says there’s people down there, Philip thinks while trying to spot any on the small peninsula. He knows they’d have to be tiny from his perspective, like ants. “Frank?” he says softer soas not to hurt littler ears. (TBC)

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0048, 0315, Mythopolis, Wazob

00470315

“So Ice Cube who also stands in for Eraser is dead,” observing Nauty said about the crushing of the vowel object-characters in this game of FILE. “Done in by Ruby Gem’s spell centered on All Orange. But let’s back up, examine what these fruits actually represent. Everyone has an Orange, but only females have generally recognized Apples and males have generally recognized Bananas, Big Apples and Big Bananas we can call them.  Although all have spaces on their body that can be filled with such.”

“Everyone is actually All Orange with Apples and Bananas to fill around (an agreed upon) center,” I attempted.

“Big Orange, right. Or Old Orange,” he wheezed out.

—–

Thanks to the pills she manifested in her mouth, Original Phyllis returned on the ottoman on the 2nd floor of the Crooked building in Constantynople, now depossessed or unlinked from the harmful inner spirit known as All Orange, who some call Big or even Old instead. Like Myrtle Beech for the latter. Shame we can’t get into more of her story right now but there’s only so much you can do with a 24 hour day these days. Outdoor fun like watching a tired dump truck driver unload a Big Arm beside a Big Banana in Flathardt with the help of a handy elephant can only last so long, else you run out of time for other stuff. Plus there’s the rain, the seemingly daily mountain showers and thunderstorms to contend with, PHEH. Else who *knows* what could be achieved. There would be an outdoor center congruent with the inner. But back to original Phyllis in her original role.

“Red yellow green blue,” she begins. “NO orange, NO–” She pauses. Is it about the orange? she briefly contemplates. NO, it’s not about the orange. Nor the violet. “NO violet,” she starts again in her loud, confident manner, pills in full effect now. “NO nothing else. We HAVE — our 4…..”

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0315, Constantynople, Flathardt, Goikyland, Haze County, Nautilus

00460315

Wheeler first heard the term Blue Balls while on the toilet reading about it in a conveniently placed local history mag. Being an excellent writer because of all those professor papers, Charlene “The Punk” Brown had no problem getting an article published — with permission from her sometimes lover and owner of the actual (tape) object Emily New Moon of course. As it turns out, the name originates from the Blue Balls Hotel, built more than two hundred years ago and which stood on the southwestern corner of town, right where the ice cream vendor Newt and she were eating at just several days back. Make that several weeks back as I’m checking. The builder, John Wallace — by chance the father of Builder Bob often noisily working on those pipes just outside Emily’s video store to her irritation — hung a blue ball out front, calling it “The Sign of the Blue Ball”. Locals soon began calling the town Blue Ball after the inn, which soon turned into Blue Balls as another ball was added to the first when no one was looking or paying attention.

But wait there’s more. The town’s name has a suggestive second meaning according to the 2nd paragraph of that article, identical to the slang term “blue balls,” which refers to, according to Charlene’s text, “the sexual condition of temporary testicular and prostate fluid congestion due to prolonged and unsatisfied sexual excitement.” After an initial leak by Marg “The Town” Gossiper, word spread quickly. A town meeting was speedily organized, a new name demanded. “Well, if not Blue Balls, then what!?” George “The Grill” Foreman called from in back of the rowdy, crowded room on the second floor of what soon became the town hall building, prompting mumblings of “What are we going to call this burg?” all around. No one could come up with a replacement name. And thus they settled on The Burg for lack of creativity or any other option. “Call it what it is,” finished Tom “The Surface” Smith. Oh, and then they all went over and burned down John Wallace’s Blue Balls hotel along with its offensive sign to seal the deal.

Wait! More. Left in the ashes of the catastrophe was a fireproof safe holding the most valuable of John’s valuables (he had many). And in that safe amongst diamonds and rubies and gold bars and gold bonds and the like was found the actual reason for the establishment’s appellation, a sex tape to be short, starring a young, novice actress in the field soon to become a much much bigger name in another. “And the name of that young actress,” Charlene finished part 01 of her promised 2 part article, “is none other than, get ready! (to be continued)”

*Fascinating* read, *friend*, Wheeler sarcastically and playfully thought about the cliffhanger while putting down the mag beside the toilet and finishing her business here. Now to get over to town hall and see what she’s facing in her 1st day of managing this here crazy town… *burg*!

But the subject would not go away, hmph. An envelope labeled “Paradise Found?” with a map of a certain Pennsylvania county all marked up inside laid atop the mail heaped up on her desk that morning, big pile courtesy of outgoing and not-giving-a-damn-on-her-last-day Electra. Sent by Charlene of all people. “Come see me,” indicated a handwritten note also within, along with the address of her records store down in Downtown (this was Uptown). Like Wheeler didn’t know that bit of information already, ha. And so on what she planned to be at least a 2 hr. 1st day lunch break that’s exactly what she did.

Blue Ball here on the map and not yet Blue Balls, you’ll notice. That might be a key — we’ll see.

(to be continued)

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0315, Jeogeot, Pennsylvania, The Burg

00450315

It was time for yellow to finally shine. And shine he did (!). He helped me more than anyone else on this list because he observed my creativity in action more than any of the others. Yellow Guy, as we’ll call him (Jack Yellow?) was quite the character. He went by a name that indicated he spoke more with action than words, or spoke his words quietly. We bonded originally, as the Green Dude coming after him, through a particular band/musician, in this case the enigmatic yet eternally relevant, jack-of-all-styles Frank Zappa. I can’t remember exact stuff we spoke about but it was just a general resonance with a lot centered around this 3rd, absent figure, just like with the Green Dude and The Kinks and Bowie later on, almost 10 years later on if I’m counting correctly. And like Green Dude with Bowie in particular, this Yellow Guy, who I’ll keep calling that for convenience sake, knew more about Zappa than I did. I was learning, I was grokking. Now by this time I’d done at least one larger, what I call audiovisual synchronicity with Zappa as a major player, this being “Head Trip” from late 2004. Then “Frank’s Moving Mtn.” where he was also heavily involved came along in 2005 or 2006 — I’m having a hard time pinning down the exact year according to my records. And I’m not sure if I knew Yellow Guy at the time or if he was a direct influence on it. I suppose that would make sense. Anyway, so we have this bond. He was our office’s recycling guy, also serving a lot of the campus as I recall. But when he stopped by he’d always make time to talk. Then lo and behold a vacancy occurred in our office for a part time helper for me. He just happened to be good friends with the person who’d filled that spot for the prior 1/2 year, and, by that time, he’d also befriended my boss who was mainly responsible for the decision to hire him. Took him out of recycling, gave him his own desk and computer, and put us squarely as team moving forward. This arrangement continued for almost a year’s time. We were still friends at the end, but working so closely together in the morning had taken its toll — too many flaws uncovered in both directions, a relationship damaged enough that we haven’t kept in strong contact through the years, although I hear from him every Blue Moon still. I miss the guy.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0045, 0315

00440315 (“*Montana*”)

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0044, 0315, Althyria, Maebaleia/Satori, X-City^

00430315

She came out of the dispensary beside the quick fix ganja vending machine V sipping chamomile tea and staring at the Black Star on its side and wondering how long Bowie had been dead. At least 8 years, she reckoned, maybe 8 1/2, the length of Fellini’s career up to the movie of that same title.

Her attention then shifted to the crime scene in the plaza slightly below her from this vantage point at the top of the cement steps, the heart of her po’ faux Nightsity, one of a handful I’ve found in Our Second Lyfe in the past month and a 1/2 or so. Another Blue Moon Kentucky killer victim, she gathered, 3rd this month of May’s June soon to slide into July. Should’ve shut down that so-called secret strip club behind the *sometimes* locked door weeks ago because of them, she thinks. Now another lies fallen.

Chef-inspector Petty studies the body outline and blood splatter volume and directions with rookie Dirk Bejirk, uselessly drawing a gun on the now vacant crime scene with no perpetrators in sight. Petty’s on loan from Aisle of Palms where absolutely nothing has happened since the end of the last photo-novel 2 months ago, not at the Perch restaurant in the Blue Feather complex during the day (chef 1/2 of his life), nor at the investigative agency in Cement Village at night (inspector 1/2 of his life). He’d even managed to get a proper amount of rest lately because he could now sleep on the job — both jobs — and get away with it. No more. Perch manager Percy Bidercy had to lay him off because of the lack of paying customers. The clients at the agency were also basically nonexistent. Put all this together and we have the current scene: Petty working in a different spot.

“It’s that strip club,” offered gun toting Dirk, still pointing at air. “City council should’ve shut it down weeks ago.”

“It’s not the strip club,” said Petty, defying common opinion. He gobbled another goober (peanut), trying to clear his mind of distractions. “Dirk, why don’t you go pick us up some food at that Chinese restaurant we passed on the way here. Bucket of Egg Foo Young for me. And a large Cokey Cola.”

“Shouldn’t drink sugary drinks, new boss.”

“Shut up and do the only thing you’re good for at this job. *Fetching*.” Petty kind of hated being so harsh to the rookie but tough love goes a long way. He’d know. Sgt. Petterson busted his balls enough in his early police/detective days to make them turn blue at times. Which, actually, also pertains to the current crime.

“3 Blue Moon crimes in the last several weeks,” he spoke to no one since a put-in-his-place Dirk had gone to fetch their food and drinks. He arrived on the scene for the first victim. He was just glad to get the job, glad of the income finally flowing into his bank account once more. Only after the 2nd did he start to get interested in the case itself, start to dig deeper into the facts. Then the 3rd here really took the cake. Fern arrived in “town”, also from a different dimension. Gave him information he couldn’t believe. We’re living in a simulation; none of this is real!

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0043, 0315, Big Woods, C2077, GTA, Hana Lei^^, Jeogeot, Nightsity

00420315

“Hucka D., there’s no doubt that this newer and truer Aisle of Palms in the same named town is connected to our Fal Mouth Moon animation. There’s even an equivalent of Steptoe Butte there in the background if we extend our draw distance to 512 and then shorten it back to 128 and take a photo before the landscape shortens again in turn. Mount Chinhae we can call it, after the sim it is situated on the lower end of. Sacred after this I would suppose.

“Fascinating. Keep it up.”

“The bar with the red rooftop to the left, like the dart in the collage is red tipped. Tipping allowed after all in the bar.”

“Tone it down a bit,” Hucka D. requested to this. “Focus on the *obvious*. What are we looking at?”

“Jack’s bar, obviously. (Bull’s) Ear for a target (name), but we had to settle on Bar since we couldn’t get the needed lights in the ‘B’ to stop functioning and turn it into an ‘E’ — shame.”

“We’ll work on it,” said Hucka D.

“So instead the dart turns into a cigarette or cigar which may be the same as a joint. This indicates that Jack is smoking hot. Icily cold later on. After the process is finished. The ear is removed from the side of the mountain revealing Lloyd the bartender for who is really is. The fuse on the bomb is lit. The color inverted VW, yellow at the beginning, speeds on to its destined destination.”

“Boomb! Bullsear!”

“Should be,” agreed Hucka D., already hatching more plans to make it so.

“What did you just call what you did, Dragon? Bulls-*what*?”

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0315, Big Woods, collages 2d, GTA, Jeogeot, Washington

00410315

From the computer table in my apartment, I watched her stand between the two openings, scratching her head and obviously trying to choose which role to play tonight. Pinkie Brainerd, owner of Pink’s Pawn on the bottom level? Or Berta Brainard, secretary and girl Friday to private investigator Wendell “Biff” Carter on the 3rd and top floor of the same building? Nothing was in-between the two; there was no middle ground here, all intermediate floors vacant instead. Despite being the author, I suppose, I couldn’t make the choice for her. The pink color of the dress drew her toward the pawn shop, but the ribbon aspect of it made her want to type and organize files and such.

This was an important decision; this was a crossroads. I’d been here before, almost in this exact spot doing the same. Before the beginning of things in that case. Here: almost in the middle. Maybe there is some kind of middle ground to be found after all.

There. Down there. That was me at the time. Pepi “Can” Kolya was the name back then. Before Mouse fixed the holes in my head and gave me expressions and the ability to wear different clothes. I became non-mesh.

I started out wearing a beanie with a spinning propeller thingy symbolizing windmills but I quickly grew out of that early look. I gained the coat/mantle of Axis, but moved beyond the darkness of a second Great War as well. I’m not German, but I proudly wear the red, yellow, and black colors of the modern aspect of that nation to remind me of my origins. A small dog named Spider was around here somewhere in my Cass City apartment to remind me of the swastika (thanks Greti!). I cannot escape my start in holey darkness but I now strive toward holy light. Through me (the author again I have to assume), Marsha “Pink” Krakow is now doing the same.

The lights grown softer, more realistic. She turns toward me and even though she doesn’t make eye contact I’m pretty sure she recognizes I’m there — at the computer desk — typing what we’re doing in the moment. She suddenly staggers and falls, then brushes herself off and assumes an upright position again. She falls once more, but in a different way. Then another fall, a 3rd kind.

She doesn’t get up this time. She remains frozen in the same position on the pavement of Southside in front of the 2 doors she apparently can’t choose between. Paralyzed, I understand. Unable to walk toward either now. She eventually vanishes on the spot but I’ve received my message for tonight. There was more to be found here.

(to be continued)

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0315, Cass City^, Maebaleia/Satori

great and powerful

When she got back from her trip to the Pleiades which wasn’t the Pleiades, Mrs. Ordinary found everything around her to be mundane, just *blah*. Sand sand sand from north to south in this here Big Sandy she called home, yellow, long and boring. She needed to spice up her life with a bit of extra, like she had while aboard the USS Galaxy, certainly not boring atall, although they had to get through that one giant meteor in the way by boring through it via a lasered out hole. Definitely excitement there!

She put down her boring book about Atlantis, Easter Island and such and rang up neighbor Marsha “Pink” Krakow, seeing if she wanted to get together for some tea, something different for her day. She’d heard of a tiny cafe opening up in Pugwash just across the Big Channel. She checked before she called — open at 7, the website stated. 7:05am now. Just in time for an early breakfast too since she saw they had flapjacks available, her favorite.

Marsha beside her Eddie in bed yawned before answering her cell phone. First thought: Mom has the shingles again and I have to come down and take care of her. But she checked the number before swiping. Unknown, the indicator indicated. Relief. She swiped.

“Hello, Marsha? It’s Bethany, er, Ginger. Listen, just wondering if you wanted to catch an early breakfast at that new place just across the Big Channel. I checked: open at 7. Seats are limited so figured I’d call now to see if you’re up for it.”

Marsha yawned again, glanced over at her Sleeping Beauty comfortably snoozing away, and said, “Sure. Just give me 15 minutes to change and I’ll meet you there.” She needed a friend to talk to as well. Life, Second or not, was getting more and more complicated, what with Ketchup Tom and now Serenity Lane entering the picture in this here section.

—–

“Oh the light’s just beautiful here. Isn’t it beautiful?” Different* from where I live, she ponders, looking up into the sky to see if she can spot the Pleiades before the harsh sun washes all the night time away. No luck.

“Sure thing, er, Ginger.” Was it Ginger? Marsha “Pink” Krakow still wasn’t sure. They had finished their flapjacks, 1 apiece since both were on some kind of diets. Look at her, Marsha was thinking prior to ordering; so trim! But Mrs. Ordinary was thinking the same thing about Marsha. And so the one flapjack apiece, easy on the syrup. Then afterwards, not tea but rum, Mrs. Ordinary decided, which Marsha went along with. Why not? She could sober up on whatever little drunkenness occurred before Eddie even stirs out of his slumber, 12 o’clock being the earliest he rises since his early retirement in March of last year. Lots of money in records management outside the public sector. And he worked for the rock industry, Ozmo Daredevils, Ozzie Osbourne and the like. For the former, he chronicled how “Jackie Pink” turned into “Jackie Blue” in the company blog, which brought him to the attention of curious Marsha wondering about her own “Pink” name and how it came to be. Through it she learned that boys and girls use to be dressed in pink and blue respectively back in the 50s 30s instead of visa versa. And so it began.

(to be continued)

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0040, 0315, Bellisaria, Sandfly

mayor

He remembers that island, small in size but big in passion. Alysha. How did I measure up so short?

—–

“Thank you for the huge bowl of patriotic soup bowl, Herbert. It does cheer me up, warms my heart. Whatever was left of it after the Abyss Absorption.”

“AA,” said Herbert Glenn Gold to this. He remembers it more by the initials. He only learned the meaning of the initials at age 17, after all the really spooky visions of the event had faded along with his imagination. Spiders, spooks and goblins he dimly recalls through the Age of Newton that had taken control since. Hard to go back to Jasper once it’s done and you go through the secret, basically invisible door. To adulthood — manhood. And I mean that for everyone. Because of the whole Newton angle. The giving of the big bowl of soup was the equivalent of giving a teacher an apple for, hopefully, good favors ahead. A is for Apple after all, and an A++ is a really big one — full of steam, it seems. He had done good, he felt. He deserved what he wished for. Promotion. Alysha back. The works.

“I recall — you like the initials,” said Mid-Hazel, about ready for the big reveal. “Helps to cope with the reality. I wish I had that luxury.”

“I only wish you the best moving forward,” Herbert Glenn Gold said rather naively, rather transparently. Mid-Hazel, in her almost infinite wisdom thanks to, ahem, AA, could see through it pretty clearly, unlike the bottom of an opaque lake. She notes the (anti-)name as a good place to take a rest and maybe a picnic in the afterlife — nice ring to it; easy to remember. Sometimes she desires not to see bottoms. If man (everyone) was meant to view that man would have been born with eyes on his fanny (etc.).

“I’m… dying, Herbert. No no no: no pity.” Herbert fakes a gasp then stifles a yawn. He’d known about this for days, almost centuries he felt. The Big Reveal dragged on and on… and on. This was about the 100th, nay, 1000th time she’d said this to him. And still she keeps on keeping on: doesn’t change much in appearance when he returns. Why does she keep telling me this? he wonders.

But then he takes another gander. Big, goofy eyes this time. Sewed up mouth. He recalls way way back. Yes, this was an original form. He’d only seen it in pictures. Just after AA, he realized. Maybe the old hag was really dying; not crying wolf again.

Opaque Lake, Mid-Hazel thought, staring at the golden figurines before her. Pre-AA here I come!

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0315, Black Ice, Jeogeot, NWES Island^